


But when I tried my thoughts to speak, emotion made my mind so weak

by tebarambles



Category: Holby City
Genre: Alex Dawson (Mentioned) - Freeform, Angst with a Hopeful Ending, Berena Summer Sequel Event (Holby City), F/F, Mental Health Issues, they really need to talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:14:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26393974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tebarambles/pseuds/tebarambles
Summary: She has talked about this again and again with her therapist. This all-consuming feeling of being too much, yet simultaneously never enough. No matter how many times they go over this, no matter how many coping techniques she tries to familiarise herself with, she fears this constant sense of inadequacy may never leave her.
Relationships: Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Comments: 25
Kudos: 55
Collections: to be continued... (Berena Summer Sequel Event)





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! 
> 
> This first chapter may seem familiar - it is the unfinished ficlet/fragment that I based my actual TBC work on. I first posted it here in July 2019: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19717798/chapters/46665562  
> I decided to include it in this fic because the second chapter picks up right after this one ends and I figured it would make more sense to just read it in one go rather than going back and forth. 
> 
> The title is from the song I Cry by Lamb

Something feels off, but she tries to push the thought aside, tries to focus on those strong hands she has been yearning for, undressing her, roaming her body. She leans back, closes her eyes, tries to steady her ragged breathing, to ignore the tightness in her chest.

_Please, please, please._

She isn’t sure what it is that she is begging for, but the voice inside her head keeps getting louder, more insistent. It is distracting her from the task at hand: pull yourself together, stay in the moment, you want this, you need this, you owe her this.

_Please don’t leave again._

She is so occupied with trying to stay present, reciprocating, moaning, sighing, that she realises too late that Bernie has stopped her ministrations.

_Shit_.

“Bernie?”

A flicker of pain crosses Bernie’s features before the façade is back in place, cold and stony, not unlike the one that Serena herself has been wearing for what feels like years now. “I think we need to talk”

Serena knows that sound, the forced calm that Bernie has plastered onto her voice. The cracks are unmistakable, though, much too familiar after everything that has happened. Serena knows she caused this, needs to make it right, tries to deflect Bernie’s request nevertheless.

“What? No, please, don’t stop, I-”

A humourless laugh falls from Bernie’s lips as she rolls onto her back, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “I know a build-up to a fake orgasm when I see one. Had to perform quite a few myself when I was with Marcus.”

Serena can feel the bile rising, turns her own eyes at the ceiling, takes a shaky breath, feels her face growing hot, tears gathering in her eyes.

“I’m sorry… it’s just – work has been stressful and-”

Her voice sounds strange to her own ears as she stops her answer mid-sentence. She can’t bring herself to finish it, to lie - again - to the woman she loves, can’t bring herself to be honest either. Unfortunately, what is in between doesn’t feel much better.

“Why aren’t you telling me what’s really going on?” The words come out much softer, so much more earnest and understanding than Serena had anticipated and they hit her even harder for it.

She reaches out, entangles her fingers with Bernie’s, knows her grip is too tight, can’t help it.

_Breathe._

“You left.”


	2. Two

The silence that follows feels deafening, threatening. For a second Serena thinks Bernie might pull her hand free and leave; she has always preferred flight over fight as her modus operandi after all. Instead - nothing. Serena wants to say something, anything, but the words die on her parched lips. Her heart is racing and she can hear the blood rushing in her ears, feels like she might faint.

Bernie swallows, clears her throat, closes her eyes. Another flicker of something - is it sadness? Disappointment? - ghosts across her pale features.

“I left because you asked me to-”

“Well, yes, but you should have known better.” Serena can’t help the bitterness in her voice, knowing full well that Bernie doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve any of the pain that she caused her.

Earlier, when Bernie had walked onto the ward out of the blue, scarred and even more dishevelled than usual but very much _alive_ , Serena had practically thrown herself at her, onlookers be damned. She hadn’t stopped for a second to think, didn’t want to think about anything at all, just wanted to let herself be engulfed in this rush of happiness and utter relief at seeing the love of her life standing in front of her, just like in her dreams. She had needed to feel her, to reassure herself that her mind wasn’t playing tricks on her again.

She had practically ordered Bernie to meet her tonight, had suggested she would pick her up at the hotel so that they could go to a restaurant, grab some food and talk. Upon her arrival she realised that she didn’t really want to talk, though, and Bernie was only too happy to oblige.

But now everything feels out of sync, like two versions of reality happening at almost the same speed, just ever so slightly off-rhythm. She feels like she is falling into the gap between these realities and can’t get a hold of either. Before her thoughts can drift off completely, she feels a sharp pull. 

Bernie’s grip on her hand tightens almost painfully. Without thinking Serena puts her other hand on top of Bernie’s in an attempt to apologize, to soothe her, just like she used to. Tonight, unsurprisingly, it doesn’t work. Bernie is still not looking at her.

_Tell her. She needs you to be honest._

“I never wanted you to go. I thought that pushing you away was the right thing to do, but it wasn’t. I knew it as soon as you turned around and walked out of that door.” She hates how breathy and high-pitched her voice sounds, how small it makes her feel. This is not going well. 

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” 

“Well, I wasn’t exactly in the position to do that, was I?” She’s getting annoyed with herself, maybe with Bernie, too. 

“But, Serena, I told you. I was willing to make it work. I thought we both were, until…”

“Until I messed it all up, I know.”

_Okay, but now you’re being manipulative. Idiot._

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” Bernie's voice is barely a whisper this time. It’s not disappointment, it’s honest uncertainty. Serena can hear it now very clearly, and she can see it on Bernie’s face. Seeing her so vulnerable still hurts a lot. 

And Serena knows, she does.The problem is, she can’t wrap her head around it. How could Bernie want her back, just like that?

_That’s what love is, I suppose. Defending the indefensible._

Her own words are ringing in her head, mocking her. Everything she thought she had locked away safely threatens to bubble up to the surface at once. The whole mess with Jasmine and Jason and… _And Leah_ , her treacherous subconscious adds. Yes, that too. She is still tempted to explain that particular mistake away - hormones, stress, loneliness. Oh, it would be so easy, wouldn’t it?

A bitter chuckle forms in her throat, turns into a strangled sob halfway through. Who is she trying to fool? Mainly herself, probably. Nothing about this is easy.

She wants to tell Bernie, over and over again, how sorry she is, how much Bernie still means to her. How much she always meant to her, right from the beginning. How much she always loved her.

She should have told her earlier, she thinks. Right there in the hospital corridor, when Bernie ran after her to explain what had happened with Cameron and Keeley. Then again, she hadn’t known back then, had she? Not consciously at least. She should have known.

_“_ I am tired of being the one who does the chasing all the time. _”_

She flinches at her own words. This is not what she wanted to say. She instantly wishes she could take it all back, like so many other things that have happened, things she has said and done over the years.

But inside her head, a voice keeps screaming, raging.

_You left. You left! You left me! Do you hear me? I thought you were dead!_

She bites her tongue. It isn’t Bernie’s fault. Nothing of this is. And yet she can’t help feeling it is, at least partly. Of course it was wrong of her to tell Bernie to leave. But it was also wrong of Bernie to agree so easily. Wasn’t it? She shakes her head in an attempt to clear it, to get rid of those tangled thoughts.

_You should have fought for us when I couldn’t. I didn’t have the right to fight for you._

Bernie recoils further, a stricken look on her face. Serena knows she is trying to suppress it, but she can see tears gathering in her eyes, and she forces herself not to look away again.

_Try again._

“No, no, I’m getting it all wrong, I -”

Again, she doesn’t know how to finish the sentence, so she lets it hover in mid-air. 

Bernie doesn’t move, just keeps staring at the ceiling, lips pressed tightly together - a silent demand for Serena to continue.

_I don’t think I deserve you._

She takes another deep breath and forces the words out. “Do you really want this?”

Bernie’s eyes widen in disbelief. “What? Serena, don’t say-”

“Bernie, please. I’m trying to be honest here. I think I just don’t understand how you are so willing to put up with this, with me, after everything that has happened. Well, after everything I did to you.”

She has talked about this again and again with her therapist. This all-consuming feeling of being too much, yet simultaneously never enough. No matter how many times they go over this, no matter how many coping techniques she tries to familiarise herself with, she fears this constant sense of inadequacy may never leave her. 

Before Bernie has the chance to answer, Serena slips her hand from Bernie's, moves to get up and gather her things. She doesn’t know what to say anymore, still feels like she has already said too much, too many things that only hurt Bernie further. 

“Wait, what are you doing?” Bernie turns around and reaches for Serena, but then seems to think better and pulls her hand back before it meets her shoulder. She doesn’t look angry or sad anymore, just concerned. 

_If you’re nice to me, you’ll make it worse._

Serena squares her shoulders and hastily turns away so she can continue collecting her clothes. The ringing noise in her ears grows louder again.

_Breathe._

The fabric of her blouse keeps slipping from her shaking fingers, making it impossible for her to close the buttons properly. She almost loses her footing when she steps into her trousers. The walls seem to be closing in on her, and she can't form a coherent thought over the noise that is filling her head. She only knows that she needs to get out of here. 

_Get a grip._

“I’m so sorry, Bernie, I wish I could - I think it would be better if I left, for now.” She can only imagine what Bernie must think of her now, doesn't dare look at her, fears what she might see if she did look. 

“Well, then I’m coming with you.” Bernie’s determination catches her off guard, seems to surprise them both, actually.

Bernie makes to grab her own things, but Serena interrupts her.

“What? No, Bernie, I don’t think that’s help-”

“Never go to bed angry.” Bernie’s words come out in a rush, hastily piled on top of each other.

“What?”

“I know it sounds trite, but it’s what my grandfather used to say. Never go to bed when you’re still angry with each other. It’ll be worse in the morning. Tonight is not going as I imagined it would, either. But I think if you leave now, neither of us will get much sleep.” There is an air of uncertainty in Bernie’s voice again, all too aware that she is grasping at straws.

Bernie is right, of course, Serena can’t deny that. There is no chance she will so much as close an eye tonight if they don’t clear the air between them. Sitting this out won’t help.

“I’m not angry,” she deliberately misses the point, even though she knows that Bernie can see right through her rebuttal. 

_How pathetic._

This is another problem that she talked to her therapist about. Her constant need to brush the really important issues over, organise them away rather than confronting them heads-on. She has perfected the art of fighting proxy wars in order to deflect from her self-perceived shortcomings - growing up as the daughter of Adrienne McKinnie made sure that there are a lot of those. (She definitely won’t tell her therapist that she still refers to them as such).

“Serena, please…”

She’s zoned out again, and struggles to re-adapt to the here and now in Bernie’s room. She opens her mouth, but there is nothing. She simply has no words for what she is feeling right now. Somehow Bernie closed the distance between them without her noticing. The gentle hand on her shoulder is almost too much to bear, but she keeps still, doesn’t want to rebuff Bernie again. 

So she lets herself be pulled into an embrace that feels too tight, yet at the same time not tight enough, and starts sobbing. She is exhausted, simply can’t hold back anymore. Bernie murmurs something in her ear but she can’t make out the words - they are drowned out by that nagging voice inside her head that is once again telling her that she doesn’t deserve Bernie. She wants to agree, but Bernie’s embrace feels too good to let go.

She barely even notices how Bernie slowly walks them over to the bed, gently lays her down and then nestles behind her, pulling her close.

“I've got you, Serena. It's going to be okay.”

She wants to believe her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm currently writing another chapter - the one where they actually get to talk things through. It's not yet the end.


	3. Three

When Serena wakes up, it is still dark outside. Panic rises in her chest when she realises that the sheets feel different and she can’t recognise her immediate surroundings. She clearly isn’t in her own bed, but where…?

Only when she tries to get up she fully notices the warm arms that are still wrapped around her middle. 

_Bernie._

The events of last night come crashing back to her and she expects to be hit by another wave of anxiety. It doesn’t come. Instead, she feels a strange sense of serenity, of belonging, settling inside her. She wants nothing more than to let herself be soothed by the warmth of Bernie’s still familiar embrace, even though she knows she shouldn’t enjoy this as much as she does.

Just a few more minutes, she tells herself before closing her eyes again.

*

The next time Serena wakes up, Bernie isn’t there to hold her anymore. Bernie is lying on her back, has moved to put some space between them, and her eyes are fixed on the ceiling again. She is also fully dressed.

Serena can barely suppress a shiver. She doesn’t really feel cold, the bed is quite warm and under different circumstances she might even describe it as cozy. No, it’s not Bernie’s body heat she is missing, it’s her touch, the still familiar, cherished nearness from earlier this morning. She knows she isn’t entitled to any of this anymore, but she feels bereft anyway.

She clears her throat to alert Bernie to her being awake. Clearly startled, Bernie practically jumps off the bed, mumbles something about getting coffee and flees the room.

_Great._

Serena is tempted to get up, to just pack her things and leave as well. For a moment she feels irrationally angry with Bernie for running away, _again._ But she knows that they need to talk, knows that this might be her last chance to try and make things right, or at least slightly better. So she decides to get dressed properly and wait. It's Bernie's room, she must return eventually. 

*

When Bernie returns, she still has a forlorn look in her eyes, and she seems quite pale. She is clutching two cups of coffee close to her chest; such a small gesture, but it makes Serena want to weep.

“I’m... are you ready to talk?”

The hesitance in Bernie’s voice, the way she words her request, is almost too much to bear. Trust Bernie to put Serena’s need before her own. Again.

“As ready as I can be.”

It feels awkward, sitting on the bed like this to have a probably rather painful conversation, so Serena gets up and moves towards the two armchairs on the other side of the room, gesturing for Bernie to do the same. She swears she can hear a sigh of relief behind her. 

For a moment they just sit there, looking at each other, silence expanding uncomfortably between them, both too afraid to take the first step. Bernie still seems fidgety, wringing her hands, but she offers Serena a shy smile, a silent encouragement for her to start talking.

Where to begin?

“I’m, um, I’m seeing someone - a therapist I mean,” Serena blurts out the first thing that comes to mind, hastens to add the second part when she sees Bernie’s expression slip for a second.

_Way to put your foot in your mouth - again!_

“Mind you, it took me long enough to find one that I didn’t detest immediately. And it’s tough, but…”

“Yes, I know it can be hard. But I’m glad you decided to seek help. It’s a huge step, Serena, you should be proud of yourself.” 

The warmth in Bernie’s voice and the honest pride in her eyes are almost too much for Serena. She blinks once, twice, then focuses on a small stain on the wall behind Bernie. The lump in her throat won't budge.

_Don’t cry._

“Proud… I don’t know about that. I don’t think I had a choice, really. But anyway. I’m seeing a therapist, there we are.”

Her voice is cracking again and she takes a deep breath to steady herself. She’d imagined that telling Bernie this would feel better, freeing perhaps. Instead, she feels unsteady again, like she's standing on the edge of a cliff and she might lose her footing anytime. She knows it isn’t fair to Bernie, but she needs to change the subject.

“But what about you, can you tell me what happened in Mogadishu?”

She can barely focus as Bernie haltingly recounts bits of what happened to her after they parted ways, has to force herself to keep listening and not to cry out at the pain and horror that Bernie must have gone through. She knows Bernie is holding back things but this is already more than she herself could have handled, so she doesn’t push. 

“I’m not sure when I’ll be ready to talk to you about everything that went down, with the explosion and- well, anyway. But do you want to know what kept me going? It was you, Serena. It has always been you.”

“What about Alex?”

Serena could slap herself. She knows she has no right to be jealous but she can’t help the way her stomach turns every time she thinks about that woman, every time she remembers that Alex and Bernie got back together, that Bernie has chosen Alex over her. That Alex is obviously more suited for the life that Bernie has always yearned for.

Bernie stares at her, bewildered, opens her mouth and closes it again.

“She came here, she was the one that told us that you were- well, you know,” Serena's throat threatens to close up again, “and she told me about the two of you.”

“The two of us? I don’t- ”

“She said you were engaged, Bernie!”

“What? Serena, that’s - that’s absolutely ridiculous!”

“You don’t have to spare my feelings, Bernie. I know she could give you things that I wasn’t able to.” 

“Oh, maybe she thought that. But I could never-”

She can tell that Bernie is telling the truth, she seems almost alarmed at the idea of being engaged, or at least being engaged to Alex? _Interesting._ Serena stores this tidbit of information and its potential implications away for later. Now is not the time to dwell on what could be, maybe, some day.

“But there was… _something_ between you?”

“Yes, but only once.” Bernie’s posture screams discomfort; Serena knows she ought to reassure her before her walls are up again. 

“It’s okay, Bernie, it’s really not my place to judge you.”

But it isn’t okay, not really. Even though she keeps telling herself she isn’t allowed to feel like that anymore. But at least she has managed to keep the bitterness out of her voice enough so that Bernie doesn’t feel discouraged.

"Alex transferred to join our team a few weeks after I arrived in Mogadishu. At first I thought this was a coincidence, and to be honest, I didn’t really ask questions. She was there for me, she was the only one I could talk to, and one day we- it just happened. It didn't feel right though, not while it happened and certainly not afterwards. Something was missing. I felt terrible about it, about leading her on like this. But we didn't get back together, I swear. It wouldn't have been right, not when-" Bernie's eyes begin to mist over, she clears her throat, hangs her head in defeat. 

"She didn't take it too well in the beginning, things got a bit ugly between us for a while, but she eventually accepted it. Or at least I thought she did. I just - I don't understand. Why would she lie about this, why would she make up this engagement story?" 

"I don't know. Grief makes people do strange things. Maybe she was just looking for a way to get involved, to officially get to say goodbye to you. I know I would... She brought us a box of your belongings. A few photographs that Cameron kept. Some clothes. Your diary. She gave it to me, said that you wanted me to have it." 

This information does nothing to lessen Bernie’s obvious irritation with her former lover. If anything, the frown that has been on her face since they started talking about Mogadishu grows even deeper. "But why would you believe her? She gave you my diary, which she must have read by the way, because I never told her that I wrote it for you, and still you didn’t doubt her story, not even for a second?" 

"What was I supposed to think? I pushed you away, threw away my chance with you. You were free to do whatever you wanted. And Alex wasn't just anyone, was she? As much as it hurt - it made sense that she would be the one… oh, I don't know how to explain this."

Serena feels like her head is spinning. All these things Bernie just told her throw quite a different light on everything that happened. Has she really been wrong, naive, to believe Alex? Why did she never question her? She doesn’t have an answer to these questions, but Bernie still deserves a better explanation than ‘I don’t know’, so she takes a deep breath to center herself, and tries again.

“After your- your funeral, she stayed around for a while. We bonded. Exchanged memories of you. It felt good to talk to someone who understood what I was going through, someone who loved you.”

“Right. I think that’s enough about Alex.” There is a new intensity in Bernie’s voice, and a hint of steel in her demeanor. She is obviously holding something back but, Serena reckons, now is not the time to probe. She just hopes that Bernie might tell her on her own terms one day. 

“What I want to know is - where do _we_ go from here?”

The question catches Serena off guard. She doesn’t know what she expected, but certainly not this. 

“I- I don't know? I’m sorry for the way I behaved last night, first throwing myself at you like this and then not…”

Without hesitation, Bernie reaches out and takes Serena’s hand in hers to soothe her. “Shh, Serena, it’s alright. It’s not like I didn’t want you to - and I understand, you were overwhelmed. So am I. We’ve both been through so much, and we still need to work through these things. But I’d rather do this together, not apart. What do you think?”

“Oh, Bernie. You’re right, and I do want you in my life, believe me. But we can hardly just go back to what we were before everything went wrong, can we?”

Bernie gets up and pulls Serena into a tight embrace, leans in so that their foreheads touch. “We don’t have to. How about we start anew? One step at a time?”

Serena lets out a sob, once again too overwhelmed to keep the tears at bay. She feels Bernie pulling her even closer, as if to tell her, _I won’t be pushed away this time._ Despite her tears, this is the closest she has felt to happiness in over a year. 

“One step at a time it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it - for now at least.  
> Knowing myself, they will get the Happy Ending they deserve eventually. 
> 
> A huge thank you to @batnbreakfast, @fortytworedwines and @slightlyintimidating for supporting me through this :)
> 
> Another huge thank you to @batnbreakfast and @ktlsyrtis for organising the tbc event!


End file.
